Transylvania!
by Laiqualaurelote
Summary: It's Chicago the movie...Transylvanian style! Anna longs to be on stage, like her idol Van Helsing...till they both land in the Prison of the Church for murder. Carl becomes Anna's lawyer, and her case shoots to stardom, much to Van Helsing's dismay...
1. All That Jazz

_From the producers of 'A&A&A Boarding School'_

_and 'Van Helsing: the Musical' (not yet published)……_

_inspired by the fifth and the sixth best movies in the world_

_(neither of which we own)_

_we give you…_

**Transylvania!**

Authoresses' Note: This is the second cooperation fic between the Mendiant sisters – again typed out by Lydia. Boy, she wonders why – Chicago! with the Van Helsing characters. Oh yes, that bit up there was a venting of ego. We have a lot of it.

We understand that the very idea of Van Helsing dancing gives certain people nightmares – and if that's the case for you, please keep your imagination in check during the musical numbers. People have been known to have heart attacks from over-graphics.

We also understand this is a pretty crazy idea – but _anything_ is worth seeing the Van Helsing cast perform our all-time favourite – the **Cell Block Tango**. (Here's to you, squishenya, says Lydia.) Yes, that's the highlight of the whole thing. Just you wait and see.

Seeing as we have nought else to say…we present to you…

**1. All That Jazz**

The Carpathian mountains. Tall and forbidding, with the Romanian night draped across their snowy peaks like a ghostly black shawl. Upon the bitterly whistling wind that tore through the dark needles of the forest trees, came a sound. The lonely keening melody of a single flute, calling, beckoning the listener, drawing them across the Carpathian range, inviting them…

_…… to Transylvania……_

"Five, six, seven, eight!"

And the whole orchestra started up in a boisterous tune. The music echoed cheerily off the walls of the brightly lit Vaseria Club, which was, as always, filled with laughing patrons, eagerly awaiting the nightly shows. The jazzy beats swarmed out through the welcoming double doors and sounded in the snow-covered streets of Vaseria Village. Outside, it was freezing, snowflakes bouncing lightly off the thatched roofs and the cobblestones. The streets were mostly empty – everyone with Transylvanian common sense was safely indoors. The night hung overhead, with the mountains and the eerily dark forests silhouetted against a full moon. Bats flitted amidst the silent trees; wolves howled in the distance; an occasional vampire lurked in the shadows, hoping to surprise a careless villager.

Yup, everything in night-time Transylvania was as it always was.

The manager of the Vaseria Club stomped into the backstage, which was packed with the usual performers in their outlandish costumes. He was chewing his cigar and, despite the unusually large number of patrons, looking displeased. But naturally – his main attraction was late.

He yanked the cigar out of his mouth to yell: "Has anyone seen the Van Helsing brothers?" To no avail – no one bothered to reply. The manager let out a sigh of frustration. "You," he pointed at one of the sock-puppeteers, "you're up in five." The man nodded blearily, and went back to sleep. The manager hurled the cigar out of an open window and tramped upstairs to see if the absent pair were there.

Outside, a coach drew up at the mouth of an alleyway which culminated in the back door to the club. A tall black boot emerged and landed heavily in the once pristine snow, followed by its partner. "Keep the change," muttered a gruff voice.

As the coach drove off, the pair of black boots marched swiftly down the alleyway, leaving heavy footprints on the snow. A couple of rats scampered in alarm out of their way. As the cloaked figure passed a few posters advertising the double act of the Van Helsing brothers, a black gloved hand shot out and irately ripped part of a poster off, hurling it angrily into the fresh snow. Meltwater seeped into the torn piece, soaking and darkening the single word in huge letters: "ABRAHAM".

As the figure flung the back door open and strode into the club, the manager caught sight of him and rushed over, waving a new cigar crossly. "Where the hell have you been? And where's Abraham?"

"He isn't himself tonight."

"But they came to see your double act!"

"Don't sweat, I can do it alone." The boots clunked hurriedly up the stairs and entered a dressing room. After locking the door, the figure flung open a suitcase, which contained costumes – mostly Gothic black. After frantically rummaging through them, the gloved hands finally found what they were looking for: a pair of bloodied Tojo blades. These were lobbed into a drawer, a black cloak draped over them, and the drawer locked. Then the figure tore the gloves off, revealing bloodstained hands.

"_Vai. Osândi_!" He shoved them under a tap, rubbing frenziedly until the blood had been washed off. The water in the sink ran red for a second, and then the blood drained away with the rest of the water. Drying his hands on his cloak, he looked at himself in the mirror. Then he put his gloves back on, took a black leather hat out of a drawer, and jammed it on his head. After a few adjustments, he decided he was satisfied with the effect and left the dressing room.

"Move it!" exclaimed the manager, ushering him towards the ascension platform. "Move it! Hurry up!"

As the figure leapt onto the steadily rising platform, the Bandleader caught the manager's signals and leaned forward to speak into the mike. "Ladies and gentlemen! The Vaseria Club is proud to present to you the hottest show in Transylvania – two Goth guys moving as one. Abraham and Gabriel Van Helsing!"

The music immediately changed, to a slower, more steady beat. The ascension platform joined the rest of the stage, as the cloaked-and-hatted figure stood motionless amidst an artistically arranged group of backup dancers. A couple of bars played on. The Bandleader glanced at the performers, and suddenly it hit him that there seemed to be only one Van Helsing brother.

Gabriel Van Helsing did not show it, but his mind was currently in turmoil. He had been so used to relying on his brother in their double act that he had no idea what to do solo. What now? _What now?_

Go on with the show, of course.

He pushed up his hat brim with his fingertip, so his face was visible – several girls in the audience gave small gasps – and began.

"_Come on, babe_

_Why don't we paint the town?_

_And all that jazz_

_I'm gonna get my hat_

_And fold my high boots down_

_And all that jazz_

_Start the coach _

_I know a whoopee spot_

_Where the absinthe's cold_

_But the piano's hot_

_It's just a noisy hall_

_Where there's a nightly brawl_

_And all_

_That_

_Jazz."_

Good, he was getting into it. Perhaps this might just turn out fine.

Around him the backup dancers began to move – into other artistic arrangements – and he too followed. Leaning back over the piano, he took a cigarette from the pianist and drew from it. As the dancers whispered around him, he blew a cloud of smoke over their heads. Several jazzer-wannabes immediately memorized that particularly cool move and stored it happily in their minds for further reference.

The tendrils of smoke crept through the crowd and curled faintly around a dark ringlet of hair. The owner of the hair was hanging onto a pillar, dark waves of hair cascading over her black-clad shoulders and framing her pale, slightly pointed, face, her intense eyes staring transfixed by Van Helsing's every move. Strange that the other brother wasn't here tonight – but she had always preferred Gabriel Van Helsing more. She considered him cooler, handsomer, and the better singer. He was her idol.

You see, Anna Valerious (she preferred her maiden name) badly wanted to be on stage.

She watched, entranced as the performance began to pick up pace.

"_Slick your hair_

_And wear your leather shoes_

_And all that jazz_

_I heard the vampires _

_Are gonna blow the blues_

_And all that jazz…"_

Van Helsing tossed the cigarette casually offstage, where a group of girls instantly began a squabble over who should keep it. Ignoring them, he linked arms with a couple of dancers, who began to edge forward (artistically).

"_Hold on, hon_

_We're gonna bunny hug_

_I bought some aspirin_

_Down at United Drug."_

Gosh, thought Anna, he's so cool.

"_In case you shake apart_

_And want a brand new start…"_

Oh, if it was _me_ on that stage…

"_To do…"_

Oh yes, _me_…wouldn't I love that…

"…_that…"_

Me_…_

And suddenly it _was_ her, in full black costume, on stage in front of an enraptured audience. Flinging her arms out ecstastically, she screamed, "_Jaaazzzzz…_"

"Anna!"

She jerked out of her dream, back to the reality of the cold pillar and the hand on her shoulder. Turning to look at the hand's owner, her heart sank.

"Anna!" There was a tinge of unhappiness in her husband's voice. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the manor? I ordered you to stop going jazzing in the nightclubs!"

Angrily she shook his hand off. "Just 'cos you're my husband doesn't mean you can order me around."

"Oh yes I can." He grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip. "You're coming home." Ignoring her struggles, he dragged her towards the club exit. As she fought in vain against him, she cast a wistful glance back at the stage – and Van Helsing.

"_Find a flask_

_We're playing fast and loose_

_And all that jazz_

_Right up here _

_Is where I store the juice_

_And all that jazz…"_

The audience was enjoying themselves tremendously as the music picked up pace. Several were already beginning to clap along.

"_C'mon babe_

_We're gonna brush the sky_

_I betcha Isten Szek_

_Never flew so high!"_

Outside, two figures could be seen, black against the snow, one dragging the other towards the manor at the end of the village.

"'_Cos in the stratosphere_

_How could he lend an ear_

_To all_

_That_

_Jazz."_

"Let me go, Fred!" yelled Anna as her husband flung open the doors to the manor and dragged her in.

"_Oh, you're gonna see your sheba shimmy shake_

_And all that jazz."_

Her husband at last released her, but stood between her and the door. "You're not going back there again."

"_Oh, she's gonna shimmy till her garters break_

_And all that jazz."_

"Why can't I?"

"_Show her where to park her girdle_

_Oh, her mother's blood would curdle…"_

"You're my wife, for heaven's sakes. Will you quit hanging out in those lowdown nightclubs and act like a _respectable_ woman for once?"

"_If she'd hear _

_Her baby's queer_

_For all_

_That  
Jazz!"_

Anna spat at him. "I hate you. I wish I'd never married you."

"Too bad," he leered. "It was the only way your beloved father could have cancelled his debt with my family."

Anna turned her back on him, anger churning inside her. She, a daughter of the Valerious clan, of royal gypsy blood – reduced to _this_! She couldn't stand it. She wouldn't stand it anymore.

"_Come on, babe_

_Why don't we paint the town?_

_And all that jazz…"_

"I'm leaving," she said quietly

"What?"

"_I'm gonna get my hat_

_And fold my high boots down_

_And all that jazz…"_

She headed for the stairs. She'd just pack a few clothes and go. Anywhere, anything, just to get out of her horrible married life.

"_Start the coach _

_I know a whoopee spot…"_

"You can't do this." He marched after her indignantly. "You haven't got any money! Where'll you go?"

"_Where the absinthe's cold_

_But the piano's hot!"_

"I'm going to get on stage. I'll audition and I'll get an act. And when I'm famous throughout the whole of Transylvania you'll regret how you treated me."

"_It's just a noisy hall_

_Where there's a nightly brawl…"_

"Face it, Anna, you're never going to have an act. Now come back here and behave sensibly."

Anna spun. Her face was filled with anger, and set with determination. "Shut up, Fred. You're not my husband anymore."

His face twisted with rage. In a few strides he crossed the hall to where she was standing.

"_And all…"_

He raised his hand. Anna's undaunted eyes followed it as it rose above her head.

"_That…"_

He brought it down. The resounding slap echoed throughout the manor. The force of the blow sent Anna hurtling backwards, whereupon she crashed into the wall. Her head was ringing; her cheek burned like the fires of Hell. Nearly blinded by tears of shame and hate, she felt for something to pull her up. Her fingers closed around something. She looked up.

The manor was filled with old artefacts that had once belonged to the Valerious family, that Anna had insisted stay here. She was clinging onto the silver sheath of the Valerious Sword, a weapon passed down through generations, that was reputed to have the spirit of the Valerious line in it. Feeling the cool touch of the silver, a new emotion rushed into Anna. She was a daughter of the Valerious line. She would not fall so easily.

"_Jazz!"_

Back in the club, Van Helsing saw some familiar uniforms moving through the audience. The Transylvanian police. So they had already found out. The Chief looked up and locked eyes with him. His heart pounding, he turned back to the stage. Grimly, he shoved them out of his mind. He had a show to finish.

The show must go on.

"_Now I ain't got a wife_

_But how I love my life!"_

_And all…"_

Anna leapt up. Her fingers closed around the hilt of the sword. With a long screech of metal on metal, the sword slid out of its sheath. Anna held it in front of her, balancing its weight carefully. All her training in her youth as a Valerious rushed back to her.

"_That…"_

Something new rushed into her husband's eyes. Fear. Anna laughed. He was afraid, and it gave her a grim satisfaction.

"Not so cocky now, are you, Fred?"

He took a step backwards. "Anna, please. You don't know what you're doing.

Her eyes gleamed. "I think I do."

"_Jaaaazzzzz…"_

She swept the sword forward, metal slicing the air, and charged.

On stage, Van Helsing and the other dancers froze in an (artistically arranged) ending position. The lights went out.

And that was the moment the sword drove home.

"_That jazz!"_

Anna Valerious (she preferred her maiden name, having been lately widowed) yanked the sword of her ancestors out of the bloody hole in her husband's chest. His eyes were wide open – an expression of eternal shock frozen in them. She was panting hard, not from physical exertion, but from the venting of her emotions.

"_Fiul unui căţea_." She carefully sidestepped the spreading pool of red lifeblood. "You had it coming, dear."

Bloody sword in hand, she headed towards the kitchen to clean it.

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming…_**Funny Honey**


	2. Funny Honey

**Transylvania!**

Author's Note: I really should be updating A&A&A first. Priorities. But somehow Chapter 16 seems to be getting a bit of long. So I went for something much shorter.

As to Rukuelle, she has wandered off and wishes to leave me to write this by myself.

Happy New Year, dears. Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

**Surf all day and do the hula: **It really isn't very nice, is it, when people are always making mistakes.

**Katatonia: **Thank you. You do know how to flatter, don't you? 'Mesmerising'…Hee.

**RandomBattlecry: **Well…I suppose if he liked it I'd be honoured. CAPITAL!

**Hollysgirl: **Yes, they're probably two of everyone's favourite movies, they're so great.

**Dalamar Nightson: **Thanks. I wasn't actually sure if it was funny, but as you think so… thanks.

**Reicheru: **If you have listened to 'All That Jazz' you really won't find that line irritating at all. And the relationship of Anna and Van Helsing in our fics has a long and convoluted history. You shall see.

**Asha Ice: **You should see Chicago. And no, no Jailhouse Rock, though it's certainly a lovely song, and Maia a lovely singer. Yes, she goes to jail. That's pretty obvious, dear. I'll miss you next year. Really I will, Orli rants and all.

**Manveri Mirkiel: **No, neither can we. Déjà vu, non? Pop, lissehondonya, pop.

**Spaztic Arwen: **I had to change the storyline. I don't think Anna would have an affair, and she wouldn't have a husband otherwise. As to coping, it's mostly touch-and-go.

Well, just as a personal advert, the sequel to my debut fic 'Evil from the Past', titled 'Evil through the Windows', will be out on New Year's Day. Go check it out (after you've read Evil from the Past first, of course).

**2. Funny Honey**

Should never have hired that gardener, thought Anna slightly regretfully.

That gardener had always been particularly fond of digging. Dig, dig, the bulbs and onions. And then one day, he'd dug up the body.

One had to count one's blessings, though. Before that idiot gardener dug it up, her husband's body had lain buried for almost a month. Anna had given out that her husband was away on a business trip. At least the body was so decomposed no one could have identified it.

Anna knew she should be cowering in fear now. Shaking with apprehension. What guilty murderers did when they were found out. But she was strangely calm. Almost as if she wasn't roleplaying, but really innocent.

Because Velkan was covering up for her. Good old Velkan.

They were sitting in the front hall, Velkan and the sergeant. Anna stood behind Velkan, head lowered and a frightened look on her face. _Not for me. For my brother._ She looked the picture of the demure, concerned sister.

"Where did you get the murder weapon?" asked the sergeant briskly. Behind him, the forensic police moved around the remains, which had been laid out on a stretcher, making sketches.

"It's my family's sword," muttered Velkan. "Used to belong to my father, see." His hands were trembling slightly, but his voice remained steady. Anna wordlessly put a hand on his shoulder. "We hung it up there as a decoration."

"Hm. Good." The sergeant made a note in his book, and presented Velkan with a paper. "Sign right there, Mr. Valerious."

"Freely and gladly, freely and gladly." Velkan signed carefully on the paper. He seemed to have recovered his composure. He handed the paper to the sergeant and beamed at him.

"And mind you don't say we beat it out of you on the witness stand."

Velkan went on beaming. "'Course not. I gave myself up. Surrendered of my own free will, I did."

The tap of boots. Anna glanced up and saw the District Attorney replacing the sergeant. "Aren't you the cheerful murderer."

"Stabbing a burglar isn't murder," put in Anna timidly. "It's…it's self-defence!"

"I'm always glad for citizens who know the law," replied the District Attorney dryly. He switched on his interrogation torch. The beam settled on Velkan's face, making it white in the harsh glare. "Now start. From the top."

As Velkan launched into his fabricated explanation, Anna prayed he wouldn't screw up. Sure, Velkan would do _anything_ for her – but he really wasn't bright enough to improvise or anything, poor man.

"A man's got a right to protect his home and family, doesn't he?" began Velkan with a righteous tone of voice.

"Of course he has," agreed the District Attorney.

"Well, it was nigh a month ago when I came home and saw him climbing through the hall window. And there's my little sister Anna, sleeping like an angel…"

"Is that true?"

The torch beam swung and glared in her face. It reminded her of a spotlight, but without the same welcome feeling. Instinctively she hunched her shoulders, trying to turn her face away from the light.

"I'm telling you, it's the truth! My sister wouldn't hurt a worm! Not even a teeny worm. She didn't even wake up and come downstairs until the first shot. Heavy sleeper, she is. When I think of what might have happened, had I decided to stop by the pub before I came home……it makes me sick even thinking about it."

Anna patted Velkan on the shoulder, a sister comforting her brother. Lucky she had Velkan, she reflected. He had got her out of so many scrapes when she was little. He was always willing to take the blame, so long she wasn't harmed. He loved his little sister more than himself. He'd die for her.

Wouldn't he?

A strange, otherworldly feeling settled around her like a veil. That torchlight beam was blinding her – just like a spotlight, really it was. Her mind began to wander.

There are some places where the veil between worlds is very thin, where people with over-active imaginations can break through any time they want. Transylvania is one of these places. And so it was that Anna Valerious, during one of the tensest moments of her life, found herself somewhere else. She had gone from the world of Transylvania to the world of The Stage.

It was a dream, wasn't it? The Stage was a dream. And it was a very nice one.

The Announcer's voice drifted into her dream. "_For her first number tonight, Miss Anna Valerious would like to sing a song of love and devotion, dedicated to her brother, Velkan."_

_She was leaning on the piano – a shiny black grand piano upon which the Announcer was playing, like she had always wanted for an act. Her salmon satin skirts pooled around her. The spotlight seemed to set her dark curls alight._

"_Sometimes I'm right_

_Sometimes I'm wrong_

_But he doesn't care_

_He'll just…string along_

_He loves me so_

_That funny honey of mine."_

_She leaned back so she was reclining on the piano. She could see her reflection in the polished black wood. _

"_Sometimes I'm down_

_Sometimes I'm up_

_But he follows round_

_Like some…droopy-eyed pup_

_He loves me so_

_That funny honey of mine."_

Back in the real world, Velkan was animatedly describing the battle to the less-than-interested District Attorney. "Like I said, even though I was brandishing the sword at him, he kept coming at me. So I had to stab him, see."

_Anna let one arm drape over the piano side, beside the Announcer's music sheets. _

"_He ain't no sheik_

_That's no great physique_

_Lord knows he ain't got the smarts."_

_How unfortunately true. But Velkan was still an adoring brother._

"_Oh, but look at that soul_

_I tell you that whole_

_Is a whole lot greater than _

_The sum of his parts."_

_She gazed dreamily at the enraptured audience._

"_And if you know him like me…"_

_She ran a hand over the piano top._

"_I'm sure you'd agree…"_

_Of course they did. Of course._

"_What if the world_

_Slandered my name?_

_Why, he'd be there_

_Just taking the blame!_

_He loves me so, _

_And it all suits me fine…_

_That funny, sunny, honey,_

_Brother of mine!"_

"And suppose if," exclaimed Velkan, "just suppose if he'd _violated_ her, or something. You know what I mean, violated?"

"I know what you mean," answered the District Attorney, barely stifling a yawn.

"Or something. I'm telling you, it's a good thing I got home on time, I'm telling you that." He nodded emphatically.

The sergeant reappeared and slipped something into the District Attorney's hand, whispering into his ear as he did so. Anna's heart tightened slightly. Was that what she thought it was?

"But why would you think your brother-in-law was a burglar?"

Velkan started. "My _brother-in-law_? Are you sure?"

The District Attorney held up a signet ring. "This ring was found on the corpse. We've just identified it as bearing your brother-in-law's family crest. That would mean you just killed the only surviving member of your in-laws' family – your sister's husband."

Anna nearly choked.

"_Lord knows he ain't got the smarts…"_

"I thought he was away…" whispered Velkan, staring in shock at the ring. "Anna told me he was away on some business trip."

"You couldn't recognise your own brother-in-law?" asked the District Attorney disbelievingly.

"I don't know!" cried Velkan. "I never saw the man! I didn't know anyone was killed until today – Anna said it was the burglar she killed a month ago, and she was telling me how I ought to say _I_ did it, because I was sure to get off! 'Help me, Velkan,' she said. 'It's my goddamn hour of need.'"

_Her fist pounded the polished wood of the piano in anger._

"_Now he's shot off his trap!_

_I can't stand that sap!"_

_An image of Velkan appeared on The Stage – sitting on the hall chair beneath the torchlight beam, blabbing on about her crimes._

"And I believed that cheap little tramp. So she killed her husband? What a disgrace to the family…… she was supposed to be happily married in order to keep the family going! And then she blows our chances of being respectable! She thought she could pull the wool over my eyes. Well, I wasn't born yesterday. I tell you, there're some  
things a man just can't take and this time she pushed me too far."

_She was standing on the piano now, her fists clenching her skirts. _

"_Look at him go  
__Ratting on me!  
Why, with just one more brain  
what a half-wit he'd be!"_

_She pointed her finger accusingly at the image of Velkan chattering on._

_  
"If they swing me  
I'll know who twisted the twine_

_That scummy…"_

_Stamp!_

"_Crummy…"_

_Gasp!_

"_Dummy…"_

_Kick!  
__  
"Brother of mine!"_

_She sank to her knees in exasperation, face drawn in rage._

Velkan put his head in his hands. "I didn't kill him. God, what a sap I was."

Before she knew what she was doing, Anna had dashed off The Stage and back into the real world. She shoved Velkan hard.

"You double-crosser! You big-blabber mouth! You, you……" Her rage swallowed all words and made her speechless.

"You've been setting me up, Anna!"

"Goddamn it."

"But you told me it was a burglar! And the whole time you've been out jazzing…"

"You are a disloyal sibling!"

"Hmph."

Anna turned to the District Attorney, who looked like sternness in person. "Look, it's true. I stabbed him. But he was…he was…"

"Burgle you?" snapped the District Attorney. "Your story doesn't wash, Anna Valerious. You're a woman who killed her husband. You're a disgrace to society."

Another wave of fury washed over Anna, leaving her drenched in rage. These men. They thought women had no rights, did they? So a woman that killed her husband was the worst sinner society had ever seen?

"Yes," she hissed. "I killed him. I killed the fool because he was asking for it. And I'd kill him again!"

"Once was enough." The District Attorney motioned to his men. "Anna Valerious, you're under arrest. Take her downtown."

Screaming and struggling, the police dragged her out of the manor. It seemed that a veritable wave of people had gathered at the door. Reporters, most like, from what they were yelling.

"Here, lady! Look here! Why'd you stick him? C'mon, answer, it'd make for a good read! Turn a bit that way, yes, now give us a nice smile like an angel."

Anna tried to turn away, hide her face, but the sea of reporters seemed overwhelming. The police dragged her to the coach and shoved her in.

"Take them while you can," she heard a policeman call. "District Attorney says this is a staking case."

Staking? What staking? Suddenly Anna was filled with an onrush of panic. "Staking?"

"Not so cocky now, are you?" The District Attorney's voice was cold. "Take her to the Prison of the Church!"

The reporters swarmed after the police coach as it swung down the snow-wet streets, still yelling questions. "Come on, lady! Headline! Why'd you kill him, huh?"

But Anna could not answer. She could not think of anything but that one stark word blazing its way through her head.

"Wait! What d'you mean, staking?"

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming…_**When You're Good to the Cardinal**

In which Anna enters the Prison of the Church and watches Cardinal Jinette do an Irish jig.


	3. When You're Good to the Cardinal

**Transylvania!**

Author's Note: Ah-ha. Ah-ha-ah-ha-ah-ha.

So much for that.

I have recently realised that responding to reviews is known on Fanfiction. Net as Callouts. So, callouts it is, strange though that name might sound to me.

**Manveri Mirkiel: **I did like that quote too, dear. And when you've just murdered someone in a fit of anger, one tends to forget little things like rings. (Hey, that rhymes.) So you'll forgive that, won't you, squishenya?

**Erin: **Thank you very much. Sometimes I do wonder.

**Random-Battlecry: **Grande is the feminine French version of Grand – although you probably know that already. Things are so much more stylish when they're feminine. I love your OVB, you know. It's crazy when Jinette dances anything.

**Dalamar Nightson: **I wouldn't hope exactly, though. But it's fun to see it playing out.

**Knnyphph: **Neither can I. Squee!

**Yours truly: **I dearly wish we moved up as a class too. I sent you a letter, but I'm not sure if it went to the right class tray. Are you still in 313, or somewhere else? Do say! (My mortal's not writing back. Sob.)

**Asha Ice: **Gory? What gory? I haven't even started, dear. Don't complain.

**Spaztic Arwen: **Quotesy-quotesy-quotes. You like those ones?

**Reicheru: **Staking, my dear, is when one takes a sharpened piece of wood/silver and sticks it into the heart of a being, preferably vampiric. Generally when that happens, the person being stuck dies. That is the rough definition.

So and so forth. Ah-ha.

**3. When You're Good to the Cardinal**

The police coach with Anna in it drove up the bumpy track to the Prison of the Church, which overlooked the land from its lofty position on the side of the Carpathian Range. It passed between double iron-wrought gates, under the arch above which sentries with long-range rifles patrolled endlessly. The gates clanged shut behind the coach.

In the back, Anna shivered.

The coach stopped, and the door was flung open. Anna was hustled out of it and up the steps into the Prison's registration hall. Even indoors, it was freezing. Anna clutched her arms in a futile attempt to stay warm and tried not to look the stern warden in the eye as she fumbled for the answers to his mechanical questions.

"Name?"

"Anna Valerious."

"Age?"

"Erm…twenty-five, I think."

"Any addictions? Caffeine, cocaine, opium?"

Anna shook her head, eyes flicking helplessly about the dingy corridors as she was led away by the two burly prison guards.

After more interrogations and a visit to the uniform department, where she was given a couple of nondescript prison dresses. In the darkness of the changing room she tugged one on, and then allowed herself to be herded away with a crowd of other men and women, all dressed the same. Blue uniform after blue uniform, empty eyes after empty eyes. Anna was caught in a sea of expressionless prisoners, sweeping towards one unanimous, unspoken destination.

It was an empty room, filled with benches. The bold words carved into the wall at the back said: "DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO".

Clutching her other prison dress to her, Anna was shepherded in. She slid onto the nearest available bench, breathing hard. The warden at the door, a burly monk carrying what seemed to be a cudgel, glared at the collected multitude of criminals.

"The Cardinals are on their way, so don't get too cosy." He was about to shut the door, but turned back to add, "And put out that cigar!"

The person he was addressing casually stubbed the cigar out on the bench. She was one of the few women in the room, much older than Anna herself, with lines etched into her indifferent countenance. She saw Anna glance at her, and must have taken note of the frightened look in the young woman's eyes.

"Ever had Jinette before?"

I'm new here, thought Anna, of course I never did. Aloud she said quietly, "No."

The woman shrugged. "He's fine. As long as you keep him…happy." She made a sort of rubbing movement with her fingers which Anna did not exactly get – perhaps it had something to do with money?

She turned back and sat straighter. She could not let herself be dominated by this place, oppressive though it was. She would find herself a way out of here. And with that resolution, Anna let herself slip once more into her daydreams.

"_And now, ladies and gentlemen," echoed the Announcer upon the Stage._

The clunking of boots.

"_The Keeper of the Keys…"_

The door at the end of the corridor outside swung open.

"_The Count of the Clink…"_

A figure, a shadow, appeared behind the translucent glass windows adjoining the corridor, and strode purposefully towards the entrance.

"_The Master of Murderers' Row…"_

The door was flung open, and in the doorway stood a figure framed by an unexplained and blinding light from behind.

"_His Holiness, the Cardinal Jinette!"_

Anna was sure she heard the orchestra on the Stage strike up somewhere, but currently the light from the daydream was being too blinding for her to notice anything else much. However, it soon faded into the crimson brocade of a holy robe.

"_Ask any of the sinners in my flock_

_They'll tell you I'm their lifeline, and their rock."_

_The singer was standing straight like a poker, his face concealed in the shadows of the curtain. His hands were clasped in prayer before his crimson front._

"_I bless them all, and all them bless me…"_

_Suddenly the singer stepped out of the curtains. He was an elderly man, but he moved with great vitality for one so old. Above his fearsome eyebrows, his head was entirely bald._

"_Because the system works, the system called_

_Reci-proci-ty!"_

"On your feet!" bellowed the warden.

Everyone immediately jumped up. Anna followed suit. She stared curiously at the personage standing before her – the infamous Cardinal Jinette.

Jinette appraised the prisoners at attention before him, hands clasped behind his back like a general reviewing his troops. "Welcome, my children."

"_Got a little motto_

_Always sees me through_

_When you're good to the Cardinal_

_The Cardinal's good to you."_

"You might think I'll make your life a living hell," began the Cardinal smoothly, "which is not true."

"_There's a lot of favours_

_I'm prepared to do_

_You do one for the Cardinal_

_And he'll do one for you."_

_Jinette winked at the Announcer, who winked back. The Cardinal turned back to his audience, and began to address them like he would normally give a sermon._

"I'd be your friend if you let me," went on Jinette kindly, as he walked down the aisle between the rows of benches. Anna looked away as he passed her. "So if there's anything that upsets you, or makes you unhappy in any way," he suddenly spun around, "don't come confessing to me, because I don't give a damn. Now move it out!"

Some language for a holy man, thought Anna as she scurried to obey.

"_They say that life is tit for tat_

_And that's the way I live_

_So I deserve a lot of tat_

_For what I've got to give!"_

_He beamed at the attentive audience._

"_Don't you know that this hand…" he waved a ring-encrusted hand at them,_

"_Washes that one too_

_When you're good to the Cardinal_

_The Cardinal's good to you."_

Anna was about to go through the door, when she ran smack into Jinette's outstretched arm. Anna rebounded off with a gasp of more shock than pain.

"You must be the Valerious girl," commented the Cardinal. "You're a pretty one."

"Thank you, sir," muttered Anna, casting her eyes downwards nervously.

"Oh, call me Father." Abruptly he turned and left, with a gesture for Anna to follow him. "Don't worry, my child," he called back over his shoulder. "We'll take care of you. Now, you'll be happier down in the east block. Murderers' Row, they call it."

"Oh." Anna processed this information. "Is it…nicer there?"

Jinette exchanged a look with the following warden, who rolled his eyes. Anna decided not to pursue that point.

_The Cardinal bowed and retreated into the wings. After a swig of brandy which the Announcer offered him, he reappeared behind a canvas screen. The audience watched his shadow expectantly, and whooped raucously at his outrageous performance of an Irish jig across._

Anna decided to press her chances here. Catching up with the Cardinal, she began hurriedly, "You know, I don't think I really belong in here. I didn't actually do anything _wrong_…"

Jinette glanced at her with an unreadable expression. "Don't tell me, my child. I've never heard of a husband getting murdered who didn't get just what was coming to him."

Anna blinked. This cardinal was certainly not what she reckoned a cardinal should have been.

They crossed a brief snowy stretch into another building built to the east.

As they entered, they passed down a long corridor separated from the prison common room by a wall of bars. A figure which Anna recognised with a start detached itself from a group of others and briskly approached Jinette and his following. "Hey, Father. Come here!"

Jinette obliged. Anna, unable to believe her luck, followed. "You're Van Helsing!" she exclaimed as she reached the bars. "_The_ Van Helsing! You know, I was there. I was there the night you got arrested."

Van Helsing barely spared her a glance. He'd met many of her type before. Groupies. "Yeah, you and half of Transylvania."

Anna, rebuffed, fell back. Van Helsing turned instead to Jinette, producing a magazine. "Look at this, Father. Another story denouncing me in Redbook Editorial." He turned the page and began reading word by word: "'Not in living memory do we recall so fiendish and terrible a double homicide…"

Jinette threw back his head and laughed. "Gabriel," he exclaimed as he recollected himself, "you couldn't buy that kind of publicity."

Van Helsing quirked an eyebrow. "Couldn't buy it?" He reached under his hat brim, and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar note, waving it under the Cardinal's nose. "Guess I can keep this then."

Jinette chuckled again. Then he snatched the note out of Van Helsing's hand and tucked it into his robe. He winked at the one-time performer, who did not seem at all surprised. "Nice try."

"_If you want my gravy _

_Pepper my ragout_

_If you toast the Cardinal_

_He'll drink back to you."_

_Jinette licked the last drops of brandy off his lips and waved a red cardinal's sash like a banner at the audience, who applauded approvingly._

"_When they pass that basket_

_Folks contribute too_

_You put in for the Cardinal_

_He'll put out for you."_

Anna followed Jinette up a black winding staircase, and onto the second level – where the cells were.

"_The folks atop the ladder_

_Are the ones the world adores_

_So boost me up my ladder, kid_

_And I'll boost you up yours!"_

Down the corridor they went, Jinette exchanging friendly comments with the cell inhabitants and passing the occasional cigarette to them, until they came to the one at the end – her cell.

"_Let's all stroke together_

_Like the Princeton crew_

_When you're stroking the Cardinal_

_The Cardinal's stroking you!"_

_He paused, and turned to face the audience again. Raising his hands in mock prayer again, he sang:_

"_So what's the one conclusion_

_I can bring this number to?_

_When you're good…_

…_to the Cardinal…"_

_He took a deep breath._

"_The Cardinal's_

_Good_

_To…_

…_You!"_

_The audience clapped wildly in response._

The warden shoved Anna inside the cell.

_Jinette did a couple of pirouettes, grinning with pleasure. The cardinal spun around, till his back was facing the audience, and lifted the sash as a last tribute._

The prison door slid shut with a clang.

Anna clung to the bars. "Erm, Father? It's…kinda _freezing_ in here…you don't think there's something wrong with the heat? Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but…if you've got a couple of blankets tucked away…"

She was interrupted by the warden's cudgel striking the bar above her head. Anna jumped violently. The warden glared at her, then followed Jinette indifferently down the corridor and out of sight.

"Lights out!" called Jinette as they disappeared down the stairs.

Accordingly, all the lights went out. Iron clamps shot out and locked the cell doors tightly to their posts. The clang echoed in the darkness long after the doors had been locked.

Anna appraised her surroundings – not an easy task, since the only light was that of the moon filtering through the tiny barred window in her cell. In the dim shadows she made out a prison bunk, and carefully made her way over to it, trying to ignore the squelching sounds below her feet. She sat down shivering, still clutching her change of clothing to her, and finally allowed her misery to get the better of her.

Oh no, she thought between sniffs. What have I done?

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming…_**Cell Block Tango**

In which the best tango that has ever been danced on a Broadway musical – is danced.


	4. Cell Block Tango

**Transylvania!**

Author's Note: Ah. I've been waiting for a long, long time.

**Asha Ice: **What sort of review is that? Hmph! No, he's not. There are only two good guys in this whole story - and believe me, they lose out indefinitely.  
**Yours Truly: **Thanks for the Apple Sweets - again! Well, actually, the songs were already there (from Chicago, you know), and I twisted the storyline around it. Will write soon!  
**Knnyphph: **I think I'm getting the hang of typing your name. You don't know how right you are - but you're mistaken if I'd let Van Helsing tango in Velma Kelly's...costume. I'd probably be stricken dead of horror  
**Redgirl44: **Cardinals are lovely dancers, aren't they?

I own neither Chicago nor Van Helsing, but I own..._this!_

**4. Cell Block Tango**

_Drip._

_Drip._

Anna shifted again in her uncomfortable prison bunk. Her dark tresses were drenched in sweat. She could not go to sleep. Particularly because of the sound coming from the sink in the corner of the room.

_Drip._

_Drip._

That confounded tap was driving her mad.

_Drip-drip._

The leaking tap suddenly increased its rhythm to double-beat.

_Drip-drip. _

The dripping sounds began to coincide with the thuds of the prison warden's boots as he patrolled the corridors outside the cells.

_Thud. Drip-drip._

_Thud. Drip-drip._

Anna shifted again, but the curious rhythm was drilling itself into her head.

_Thud. Drip-drip._

_Thud. Drip-drip._

A new sound again – this time, the ominous resonance of fingernails drumming against the bars of a cell.

_Thud. Drip-drip. Tap-tap-tap._

_Thud. Drip-drip. Tap-tap-tap._

And slowly, as she felt herself falling into that dreamy stupor that preceded her entrance to the Stage, Anna began to see a quick montage of scenes – and the words that accompanied them.

_A match being struck, the brilliant flame illuminating suddenly a curl of vivid gold-brown hair……_

"Pop."

_The dark profile of a man, a long-haired man – the only light glinting off a gold hoop earring in his ear……_

"Six."

_A pair of blood-red, lush lips, pulled back to reveal a perfect set of white and viciously pointed teeth……_

"Squish."

_A straight curtain of sleek, black hair, in a long, glimmering fall to hide the pale face behind it……_

"Uh-uh."

_The wide brim of a leather hat, sheltering a glowing cigar whose smoke drifted past the speaker's silhouette……._

"Vaseria."

_A cadaverous, withered hand, cradling a grisly skull, its bone white and smooth with much handling……_

"Coffins!"

Anna heard a whirring, scratching noise and turned over. The cell bars of her prison were retreating, sliding aside. Behind the bars, the Announcer's face appeared momentarily, as she had suspected it would.

"And now……" said he with a grin, "……the six Merry Murderers of the Prison of the Church– and their rendition of – " he paused for effect, " – the Cell Block Tango."

Anna got out of bed and walked over to the empty space where the bars had been. Beyond it lay the boundless Stage, with a spotlight focused on a single chair. Anna reached it, stood for a while staring at it, and then sat down.

The rhythm went on, with the strange voices murmuring.

"Pop."

"Six."

"Squish."

"Uh-uh."

"Vaseria."

"Coffins!"

In the distance, the structure of a cell block row gradually materialized, and six figures emerged one by one from the shadows behind it. Their names came instantly to Anna's mind, though she had not met them before – but then, this was, after all, the Stage.

Then the first of them moved dramatically forward, the rest following.

"Pop!" spat Marishka, baring her fangs.

"Six," enunciated Dracula, grinning seductively.

"Squish," hissed Aleera, gripping the bars in a stranglehold.

"Uh-uh!" protested Verona, clutching the bars desperately.

"Vaseria," growled Van Helsing, blowing a cloud of smoke.

"_Coffins!_" yelled the Undertaker maniacally.

The music started.

"Pop."

"Six."

"Squish."

"Uh-uh."

"Vaseria."

"Coffins!"

The voices rose in swift consecution, without a pause or interruption to the flow.

"Pop."

"Six."

"Squish."

"Uh-uh."

"Vaseria."

"Coffins!"

Then they all glared straight at Anna – and began to stamp.

"_They had it coming_

_They had it coming_

_They only had themselves to blame_

_If you had been there_

_If you had seen it……"_

Van Helsing stuck a hand under the bars and pointed, almost accusingly.

"_I betcha you would have done the same!"_

Muttering their six-word mantra, they began to shift as the bars slid apart. For a moment, a figure stood silhouetted in the opening, and then she stepped forward into the spotlight.

Gold bangles jingling, Marishka licked her lips and tucked a curl behind her ear. Her yellow skirts trailed behind her as she walked up to a shadow of a man that emerged from the ground and leaned on it.

"You know, how some people have these little habits that just get you down?" Her singsong voice was mocking. "Like……Bernie. Bernie liked to chew gum." She reflected on that, and corrected it. "No, not chew. _Pop_." She described a circle on the ground with her foot. "So this one night, I come home, and I'm _really_ irritated. And all I'm looking for is a little bit of sympathy." Her voice's singsong quality now became dangerously slow and deadly. "And there's Bernie, lying on the couch, drinking a beer – and chewing. No, not chewing." She spat the word like a dirty curse. "_POPPING_. So I said to him, I said: 'You pop that gum one more time.'" She sighed theatrically. "And – he did. So I went over and popped him – "

The music paused drastically. Marishka was so close to the figure that their noses were almost touching. To Anna's horror, the vampire's fangs extended, and she bit down, pulling away with a red scarf clenched in her hand.

" – in – the – head."

She grinned with satisfaction. Then she seized her shadow partner in a deathgrip and began to tango viciously with him across the Stage, while the others chorused grimly in the background:

"_He had it coming _

_He had it coming_

_He only had himself to blame_

_If you had been there_

_If you had _heard _it_

_I betcha you would have done the same!"_

Marishka faded into the shadows as the bars slid apart again, and there appeared – Dracula.

The earring in his ear was glinting again, against the black of his ponytail. His smile was decidedly unnerving. He stepped up beside an anonymous female silhouette, who automatically leaned on his arm.

"I met Ezekiela Yamen from Budapest about two years ago – and I told her I was single." He pronounced was as 'vas'. "Well, we hit it off right away. So we started living together. I'd go out at night, I'd come home in the morning, she'd fix me a drink, we'd have breakfast." He twirled the figure in a delicate underarm turn. "And then one day, she found out." He dipped her over his arm. "Single I told her. Single my bloody fangs. Not only was I married, oh no. I had six wives."

_Oh, how shocking,_ thought Anna.

"So that morning, she fixed me my drink, as usual." Again the music rolled to a dramatic stop.

"I don't take kindly to arsenic," went on Dracula serenely, with his victim still curved over his arm. "Not at all. So I drank her dry." He bent till they were face to face, and kissed her on the mouth. Anna watched with bated breath as he drew back, the red scarf clenched between his teeth. "Like I'd done the other six."

He yanked the scarf from between his fangs and flung the shadow upon the ground.

"_They had it coming_

_They had it coming_

_They tried to take us in our prime_

_And then they used us_

_And they abused us_

_It was a murder, but not a crime!"_

Dracula and Marishka wheeled and spun their shadows mercilessly across the stage, in a violent, deadly dance.

It was now Aleera's turn. The other two made way for the Titian-tressed vampire, her pink gown trailing across the stage behind her. She struck a pose, her gleaming eyes intent on the figure circling her.

"Now I'm standing in the kitchen, carving up the chicken for dinner," she stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, mirroring the actions of the figure opposite, "minding my own business. In storms my husband in a jealous rage. 'You've been screwing the milkman', he says," she imitated his tone in her own high-pitched mocking one, "he was crazy, and he kept on screaming, 'You've been screwing the milkman!'"

Anna wondered idly if she really had been.

Aleera's voice was absolutely nonchalant as she related the next turn of events. "And then he ran into my fangs. He ran into my fangs ten times."

With the accompanying drumroll, she leapt out across the circle to the figure, and then pattered back, drawing the red scarf out of his midriff after her. The shadow fell to its knees.

"_If you had been there_

_If you had seen it_

_I betcha you would have done the same……"_

The fierce beat of the tango gave way to an arpeggio of sweeter-sounding harpstrings, and the spotlight turned to the dark-haired, pale-featured dancer, who pirouetted gracefully into the spotlight, hand-in-hand with her shadow partner – Verona.

Her black curtain of hair shielded her expression as she danced and spoke in Romanian-accented Italian.

"What am I doing here? They say I chopped off my husband's head and hung it from the gate. Did I? I do not know. I cannot remember. I am amnesic, I think. I don't care. But now they want to kill me. I plead, but Transylvania will not listen. I think I am going to die."

"Che cosa sto facendo qui? Dicono che ho tagliato fuori della testa del mio marito ed appeso esso dal cancello." Her white arms curved elegantly above her hed. "Lo ho fatto? Non so. Non posso ricordarsi di. Sono amnesic, io penso," she added thoughtfully. "Non mi preoccupo. Ma ora desiderano ucciderli." She spread out her arms, and spun in a fouette. "Supplico, ma Transylvania non ascolterà. Penso che stia andando morire." The figure knelt slowly, and Verona, balancing on one foot, lifted the other above her head into an almost air-split.

Anna, who was intrigued by the perfect spectacle, could not resist asking the question that escaped from her lips.

"Yeah, but……did you do it?"

Something in the air seemed to snap. Verona swayed, and crumpled into the shadow's arms. She turned impassive, stone eyes to Anna.

"Uh-uh," she breathed, "not guilty!"

Then she turned her head away as her scarf came fluttering out. In the dimness it was hard to see if it was red – or guiltless white.

The spotlight shifted – to Gabriel Van Helsing as he emerged from behind the bars.

"My brother Abraham and I had this double act – and my wife, she travelled round with us." Two shadows appeared, one male, one female, on either side of Van Helsing. "For the last number in our act, we did these twenty acrobatic tricks in a row – one, two, three, splits, flip-flops, spreadeagles, backflips. And now this one night, we were down at the inn in Vaseria……" his voice grew dangerously slow, "……the three of us, boozing…having a few laughs…and we ran out of ice. So I go out to get some." The hat hid his expression. "I came back, opened the door – and there's Abraham and my wife – doing No. 17 – the Spreadeagle."

Anna could not hide the involuntary gasp. Both shadows disappeared, and Van Helsing lifted his head. The expression on his face was terrible. "Well. I was in _such_ a state of shock, I _completely_ blacked out. I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later, when I was washing the _blood_ off my _hands_ – that I even knew they were _dead_."

The two red scarves came rippling out of his hands, and he flung them aside in wrath.

"_They had it coming!_

_They had it coming!_

_They had it coming all along_

_I didn't do it_

_But if I'd done it _

_How could you tell me that I was wrong!"_

Surrounded by the other four, they went on moving into formation after formation in this forbidding dance.

"_They had it coming_

_They had it coming_

_They only had themselves to blame_

_If you had been there_

_If you had seen it_

_I betcha you would have done the same!"_

Then they split apart, as from amidst them arose the Undertaker. His long stringy white hair hung around his sallow jaw, which was fixed in a psychotic grin. Idly he juggled a couple of skulls.

"As you know, I'm an undertaker. I make coffins. Well, there was this one coffin that I loved more than I can possibly say. It was a real artistic coffin. Sensitive. Painted. But I was always trying to find an owner for it. I'd go out every night, looking for one. And on the way, I met Ruth. Gladys. Rosemary. And Irving. But none of them wanted to buy it. I guess you could say we fell out because of artistic differences. They saw themselves alive – and _I saw them dead!_"

He strangled both skulls with a red scarf and hurled them into the wings.

Marishka was the first to advance. "The filthy scum!" she screamed.

"Scum!" roared Dracula.

"Scum!" shrieked Aleera.

"Scum!" keened Verona.

"Scum!" snarled Van Helsing.

Red light filled the Stage, as a thousand shadows detached themselves from the retreating darkness and stalked after them. Their voices rose in a crescendo.

"The filthy scum!"

"Scum!"

"Scum!"

"Scum!"

"Scum!"

The six murderers advanced inexorably, kicking, stamping, clawing at the air.

"_They had it coming!"_

Stamp, stamp.

_They had it coming!"_

Stamp, stamp.

_They had it coming all along!_

_We didn't do it_

_But if we'd done it_

_How could you tell us that we were wrong?"_

"_They had it coming!"_

_They had it coming!"_

_They only had themselves to blame_

_If you had been there_

_If you had seen it_

_I betcha you would have done the same……"_

And suddenly, it all faded away. Just the cell bars again, and the shifting forms behind them……Their whispers came to Anna's ears as they faded into the darkness……

"You pop that gum one more time……"

"Single my bloody fangs……"

"Ten times……"

"Nonlo uccida prego……"

"No. 17, the Spreadeagle……"

"Artistic differences……"

Back in her dank, dirty prison cell, Anna Valerious curled into a ball against the cold and listened to the sounds of the Cell Block.

"Pop."

"Six."

"Squish."

"Uh-uh."

"Vaseria."

"_Coffins!"_

End of Chapter 

_Next chapter coming…_**Washing and Drying**

In which much of the title action takes place.


End file.
